Madam Cocaina:A Queen Pin's Story 3By: Fatima Munroe
I knew better than to make those type of promises, but I allowed him to continue thinking I was just that naïve. “Que Thiago. No olvido su lealtad a mí (Sure, Thiago. I won’t forget your loyalty to me),” I reassured him with empty promises. “Dime donde puedo encontrar Matheus (Tell me where I can find Matheus).”
“Él está en casa de su padre en Chile (He’s at his father’s home in Chile),” Thiago snitched. “Pero ten cuidado, el compuesto es fuertemente custodiado (But be careful, the compound is heavily guarded).”
“Gracias Thiago. Te hablo con usted pronto (Thanks, Thiago. I’ll speak with you soon)” I replied. After we arrived at my home, I waited until my men were out of earshot before I pulled out my burner phone. Although I had no real need for a burner once I was outside of the U.S., I still used it to conduct my illegal business. Making a phone call to the phone number that my Aunt Lourdes told me to only use in an emergency, I smiled to myself as I pondered Matheus’ fate. Once the person on the other end took care of Matheus and news of his demise spread through the cartels, I didn’t anticipate any issues from the other men, Thiago included.
“Josefina! Josefina! ¿Has oído sobre lo que sucedió a la cabeza de cartel El Toro? (Did you hear about what happened to the head of The Bull cartel?) Roberto, head of the Dominguez cartel out of Bolivia asked. “¿Lo encontraron con su interior diseminadas por todo Chile? (They found him with his insides scattered all over Chile!)
I was cleaning out my mother’s house, gathering her belongings to take to the nearest church to be distributed to the poor. They were in for a treat; from the looks of Tasha’s closet, she loved her some Hermes dresses and Louboutin stilettos. “No, no sabía (No, I didn’t know that),” I giggled. “Sabes qué, sí lo hice. Esas cosas van a suceder al cruzar un pin Reina internacional. Especialmente Madame Cocaina. ¿Vos me entendés, Roberto derecho? (You know what, yes I did. Those things are bound to happen when you cross an international Queen pin. Especially Madame Cocaina. You understand me, right Roberto?)” I replied sternly.
Roberto swallowed hard through the phone. “Josefina que no sabía que lo haría… (Josefina, I didn’t know he would),” Roberto began.
“Salvar a la mierda. No doy una mierda lo que sabía o no sabía, es sólo una conversación amistosa entre empleador y empleado. Sabe su lugar muthafucka (Save the bullshit. I don’t give a fuck what you knew or didn’t know, it’s just a friendly conversation between employer and employee. Know your place, muthafucka),” I replied calmly.
“Si La Reina de Colombia (Yes, Queen of Colombia),” Roberto responded with fear in his tone.
“¿Sabes qué? No estoy simplemente Reina de Colombia, a pesar es donde yo fui coronado. Corra la voz que Josefina Borrego debe ahora ser conocido como La Reina del Imperio Americano del sur. Hacer que suceda, (You know what? I’m not just the Queen of Colombia, although that’s where I was crowned. Spread the word that Josefina Borrego is to now be referred to as the Queen of the South American Empire. Make it happen),” I stressed as I disconnected the call.
If I didn’t put my foot down, the cartels would always underestimate me. Fuck respect; if either of them decided to cross the line like Matheus did, they’d meet a similar fate. I smiled as I packed up my biological mother’s clothes and thought about the report I got back from the restaurant. Instead of Manuel killing everyone inside the restaurant and disappearing into the crowd, they actually slit everyone’s throat, turned on the gas and blew out the pilot light, and blew up Las Velas, one of the most popular restaurants in Manta. He was pretty sure Matheus or someone who worked for Matheus owned it, so blowing it up sent a message that the Queen of the South American Empire was not to be fucked with.
I pulled Tasha’s bureau out, and a manila envelope dropped from underneath the drawer. I ignored it at first, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Curiosity got the best of me, and I picked up the envelope while taking a seat on the bed. Reading its contents, to say that I was shocked would be the understatement of the year. Inside was my birth certificate, no shocker there. What was a shocker was that there was a birth certificate for a baby boy born to both of my parents who was a year older than me. Somewhere out in the world, I had a brother who was technically the rightful heir to the Colombian empire, and now the only two people who knew about this mysterious person were both six feet under.
Reading the birth certificate at least five times, it finally sunk into my head that Josef Rodrigo Borrego Jr. not only existed, but was also out somewhere in the world. As I read through the packet of information that Tasha had neatly tucked in the one spot that no one would’ve checked, I learned that Josef Jr. was raised in an orphanage in Barranquilla, but ran away at the age of seven because he was being mistreated. Learning how to be a man on the streets of Colombia, Josef Jr. fell in with the cartels, where he was beaten and starved on a regular. He came up in the Hombres, cartel de Dinero y Asesinato, and for the past seven years he was the right hand man of Santiago Garcia, the same man whose head I put a bullet in for threatening Montrell Jr. to my face.